


War Demons

by Holyshitfuck



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Demonic Chosen One, Demonic Possession, Evil will make you forget, Gen, Going back from hell is a hell in itself, Shura Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-06 07:05:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18846073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holyshitfuck/pseuds/Holyshitfuck
Summary: Wolf Journey to and from hell of his own making





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this is shitty

Here he was, his father, well and healthy despite his memory of the contrary. He was real, at some level Wolf knew, but what he said turned the world into a waking nightmare.

"Obey the iron code, forsake your master"

A chill settled inside Wolf’s heart, colder than the ghostly touch of Lady Rin of the Water.

Flashback of his past with his father. The harsh training, the game they hunt, enemies they repelled and killed. Then of Kuro, of how kind he was all this time. The sweet rice ball he made. The concern in his voice. It was all so sweet and yet…..

The iron code must be obeyed.

The chilling sensation dispersed itself throughout the wolf’s body, slowly becoming a surreal numb.

“As you command”

“In accordance with your father’s word, you will forsake the divine heir, you understand this don’t you?” His father asked again. Perhaps he was making sure, perhaps he thought there was a deception in Wolf’s heart.

“Yes…. the code is absolute,” Sekiro said. 

In the end, he said yes to that. He forsook the only master to show him such kindness, for father’s word came first. 

Strange, he hated himself for it. For this betrayal. Yet he didn’t. At the same time...He also felt nothing. Everything washed away at that moment. All that was left for him was this familiar want…. No, need. The need that he had felt since childhood scouring the battlefield like that bandit Anayama.

The raw, primal urge to kill.

And it’s getting stronger.

Yes… he’s a shinobi, was he not? He was a killer, above all. Why deny it. He was a weapon. A fang, father’s talon.

Then Emma came. His father tried to kill her discreetly by the means of shuriken, yet the doctor parried them all with ease. The bloodlust inside him surged uncontrollably at the display. He had wondered before about how skilled she was with a sword. He felt it when she touched his face, when her calloused palm tended to his wound when their hands touched slightly after he offered her “tea”. Here he was, with an opportunity to test it.

“I must cut you down before you fall to Shura”

Shura this shura that, whatever she was talking about, the Wolf couldn’t care less. All that matter was the built-up bloodlust and father’s command.

While his mind was devoid of warmth, Wolf body was raging inferno barely contained. A fire that would burn all living beings in this heretical land.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Emma gritted her teeth. The shinobi was powerful and skilled. He had assimilated all of Ashina’s martial arts skill, his shinobi-exclusive ones, and the use of prostethic tools. He was a monster of the battlefield incarnate.

But she wasn’t going to lose. She would kill this Shura. 

Emma sheathed her sword, preparing to use one of the technique she trained the most. She had planned to use it on the sculptor should he fell into his rage and become a demon, the one technique Isshin used to cut down Shura which settled inside Orangutan’s left arm. The ultimate arts of the Ashina Clan.

What she didn’t realize, however, was the fact that this shinobi-turned-Shura had trained and mastered himself in Ashina Cross as well, although he had to cheat by using esoteric ritual that sacrificed spirit emblem to generate additional power. Regardless, Experience had taught him the weakness of the technique, something Emma missed since she never used it toward living creatures before.

The moment she deliver the cross cut, the shinobi dodge backwards and then explosively charge charge forward. The prosthetic was raised and spew out fire. Emma tried to dodge the alchemical fire, but it was all for naught as a fiery slash made its way into her abdomen, the searing pain turned her mind white. The prosthetic hand grabbing her by the shoulder and the fire-sword thrust into her chest, just below her neck.

This technique… Sculptor’s…..

“Shura…”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

While Emma tried to save the whole damn land from the awakening of Shura, the man who dream himself flames stopped sculpting buddhas. The whole temple reverberated from his anger alone. His savage punch, only slightly missing the kind-faced Buddha, created another big hole in the wooden wall.

It was shura. Its presence…. He never felt it once after Lord Isshin cut him down and his heart was filled with the fire of rage in its stead. Yet here it was. But not to possess him.

It was taunting him. Of his failure. Of his loved one's death. That he couldn’t even become its proper vessel. 

It worked, slightly. With each jab at what’s left of his pride, his anger soared, threatening to spill to more than just the decaying temple.

It was its mention of Emma in his vision that brought Sekijo out of his anger-induced trance.

Emma.... Wolf defeated her with his own technique.

That child… If anything, she had to survive, along with the master that shinobi chose to forsake.

And thus the former shinobi stood upright for the first time in a long while, armed only with the sculpting tool, some shuriken he had lying around, and the axe he used to cut down trees for idols.

The fire still burned brightly inside, threatening to consume him, yet this time he didn’t have the willingness surpress it. Not now, when it burned with purpose.

From the vision Shura mocked him with, that demon had been careless, or at least it didn’t care. The stab missed vital organs, and the wounds had been cauterized by the flame, preventing blood loss.

Emma survival was still in the realm of possibility.

Sculptor prayed to Buddha that he was right, Emma was the only one he had left after the undying was mercy-killed by Wolf.

If he failed to save Emma….. He would burn Ashina to the ground, along with Shura.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As his boy handled the girl, Owl hunt for the commander of Ashina, grandson of his old friend.

Owl had to admit, he was happy. He would cut down his son if he refused to obey, but the wolf son of his forsake the divine heir and followed his command without hesitation. 

He might be a shinobi, but even then he wasn’t cold. He had spent a long time living with the boy and he had to admit that he had grown to love his fatherhood and the little bonding moments they had.

Like when he handed his son the pouch full of sen and saw his face light up for the first time since he found him on the battlefield.

Or when he cook them both stew after training and wolf eat it all up, how it filled his heart with small warmth unbecoming of shinobi.

Or that time when Wolf shown his mastery over the shinobi arts. How proud he became from that performance.

Owl banished that thought, he had his mission. He would snatch himself the other mortal blade along with the soul of its wielder.

Yet one last thought remained and it filled Owl with pure glee. Wolf, his son, by his side, when he conquered the rest of Japan from the hand of interior minister.

Well, he better finished his mission then, for he had his son to return to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isshin tried his best

Isshin Ashina didn’t have a time of his life.

Had this pup be a proper enemy, he would’ve fulfilled his greatest wish, a fight for his life against a worthy opponent.

But no, he was a sort-of-ally the first time. Then he betrayed his lord out of misplaced loyalty. Then he was consumed by Shura. Killing him was not the ultimate showdown, it was a duty.

And damn him if he was not one skilful bastard. Shura hadn’t consumed him completely, yet his sword still gave the Ashina Head trouble.

Hirata Clan’s Kusabimaru stabbed him in the shoulder, the old man snarled a little and pushed the boy away.

No time to hesitate.

“Harrghh! I’m not done, Sekiro!”

Isshin roared as he brought his sword upward, pushing Sekiro away with the wind blast from his sword, making the fire roared around them. 

Old and ill as he was with the minister army looming, waiting for him to kick the bucket, he wouldn’t let anyone suffer the wrath of shura. Not even those red-armoured and purple-clothed bastards.

So he mustered up more power and focused his mind.

If Ashina Cross failed to cut this wolf pup’s arm, then what he needed was even more powerful strikes to leave the demon vulnerable.

Isshin stomped the ground and launch himself for what was seemingly a simple overhead sword strike, the flame dancing all around him. 

To any normal human, it looked like a simple sword technique, but in actuality, it was innumerable attacks, capable of cutting even the strongest warrior into thousand pieces without them realizing it. Such was the power of the saint.

It was with great surprise and a little bit of fear when he saw this possessed man parry them all, it didn’t even manage to wipe the smile off his smug face.

The smile became a grin and Isshin was almost locked in by the sheer malevolence radiated from such creature.

Sekiro elbowed him right in the stomach and push him further with a palm strike, a technique the swordmaster recognized as Senpo Monk style of fighting.

When Isshin tried to counter with a sweep, the demon launch himself up with an impressive leap kick, another martial art technique that belonged to Senpo Monastery. Isshin could easily block the technique, but the force of the kick alone almost brought him to his knees.

“You little….” Isshin cursed was cut short when the follow up kick hit him in the jaw. Isshin, as a master swordsman with all the reflex in the world, deflected the rest of the follow-up strike.

Time to teach this unruly dog in some manner.

Isshin dodged one of Wolf’s hasty attack, capitalizing on the opening to yank the Demon and throw him to the ground. While Wolf was in the middle of recovery, he used a swipe followed up with flame-enhanced Ichimonji strike to crush the shinobi’s skull.

Any other enemy would be deader than dead at the moment. But not the Wolf. The presence of Sakura petals deepened Isshin’s frown. Even more so when the shinobi flashed a mocking grin, the gift of immortality was his strongest feature.

How to defeat an undying enemy like this one, a Shura to boot? Well, Isshin had an idea. Strong as it was, Emma told him that the resurrection could slow down given enough death. He would blow the man to kingdom come with all the gunpowder he had and behead him before that just to be sure. If that was not possible, he would tie the demon and throw him to the bottomless hole beneath the castle.

Isshin waited for the demon to move, but found himself startled when the demon struck a pose, so bizarre in that situation, but he had seen it once before in the battlefield.

That time he was fighting an ape.

Isshin’s emotion almost got the better of him as he swung his sword horizontally, creating an arc of fire that threatened to engulf the would-be Shura. The man dodged with ease and charged him, each step cracking the floor underneath.

Esoteric Buddhists (now heretics) from Mount Kongo produced sugars that impart its user with the blessings of spirits of Ashina’s fallen heroes. They always took a certain stance before unleashing the blessing’s full power.

Isshin made a mistake in allowing Sekiro to complete his stance, a mistake he had never done before when he fought Sekijo. A shura’s blessing? To say that he was worried was an understatement. 

After that, it became a blur of sword strikes. Of two men who might as well be the greatest swordsmen of the country fighting to the inch of their life. Wolf strikes were relentless, but Isshin was called sword saint for a reason. 

The prosthetic switched to shuriken and Wolf throw one of it before he followed it up with a horizontal slash. A technique Isshin recognized as the favourite of a certain bird. Isshin blocked both of them with ease and countered with a diagonal slash that cut through Sekiro’s torso like butter.

Isshin was about to call it the second death when Sekiro disappeared in the plumage of feathers.

"This technique!" Isshin exclaimed as it surrounded and obstructed his vision.

The feathers distracted him long enough for Sekiro to finish sheathing his sword, the click sound served as Isshin’s only warning before Sekiro deliver Ashina Cross.

Isshin missed his timing and failed to properly deflect the attack, allowing the slashes to damage his old body. It created an opening for Sekiro to deliver another blow, piercing his stomach. Sekiro withdrew his sword and went for the mortal blow. Isshin had recovered enough to block the strike, but Sekiro, anticipating the response, push his blade upward before slashing him across the stomach, disembowelling the once unbeatable swordsman.

Isshin fell to the ground hard as the flame on the floor began to work its way through his organ, the sickening smell choking him.

“Sekiro… it was not…. to be….” Isshin moved his hand to the direction of the fallen Shinobi, almost like he was pleading, trying to appeal to whatever humanity still clung unto this meat-puppet of a demon.

“You’ve gotten weak…. Sword Saint” Sekiro said, his voice echoes with power, showing his fangs. 

“Those fountainhead degenerates should’ve granted you immortality. That priestess was overrated” Sekiro… no, Shura had shown his face as the rest of the lifeforce evaporate away from the Lord of Ashina. His eyes were glowing with the fire. He looked down on the old conqueror.

“Don’t worry… After this, I will wipe them all out. Them…. And everyone else on this land” Shura grinned.

He was about to “moult” this human visage and show the world the true face of Shura when he heard faint sounds of footstep along with a certain familiar aura.

Ah, truly it was his day. War on horizon and both blades were delivered to him. Shura wiped out the grin from his face.

Time for him to act like “Sekiro”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Buddhist mythology, Asuras are divine spirits addicted to wrath, pride, jealousy, and falseness. I incorporate it in the story as I don’t think Shura being mindless demon just tearing people apart all that threatening. In here, he is intelligent and sadistic psycho bent on the destruction of the realm.
> 
> Also, in my story at least, fountainhead palace is a yokai realm, instead of proper god’s realm. The only god there is Divine/Sakura Dragon. It is corrupted by their lust for the Divine Dragon Essence of immortality. That is why Tomoe can pass on as a human, the Okami warriors and Palace nobles didn’t always start looking like a bunch of carps-human hybrids. They abandoned their human looks because their corruption was brought to the surface and they even spread it around to their servants and their dogs.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote it during lunch, no beta because I love to live dangerously


End file.
